


Perfect Sentence

by TheBritishGovernment



Series: 00Q Drabbles [9]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBritishGovernment/pseuds/TheBritishGovernment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond and Q are sent on a mission in a night club. Things devolve from there</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Q didn’t belong in the field. He was meant to sit behind a desk and tell agents which way to turn, but he was not supposed to be in the field himself. Bond and him had been in agreement on that, though Mallory hadn’t minded their protests for even a moment. 

Instead he had sent Q and Bond on a mission in the States and had gone to a nightclub to investigate the owner who spent most of his time in a back office. Naturally, that meant going to the club and waiting for the opportune time to make their move for his computer.

Q had changed from his normal cardigan and tie combination into a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of black skinny jeans that had made Bond’s jaw go slack when he saw them (“Were you painted into those?” “Fuck off, Bond.” “So close to the perfect sentence.”). He had rid himself of his glasses in exchange for contacts and his hair was carefully combed to look like he hadn’t bothered to style it. 

Bond had changed from his usual suits to a worn out pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his perfectly toned body just right. (Q didn’t say anything when he saw the agent, but then again he had always been good at hiding his reactions.)

They got into the club without a problem (Q was pretty and Bond was with him). Lights flashed all around them and they were pressed up against other people that were covered in sweat. Bond went to the bar and got himself a glass of scotch while Q started easily dancing in the crowd. 

Bond watched Q – far closer than he would ever admit – from the bar. There were a few hours yet before it was even likely that they could do something and Bond decided that the most productive way to pass that time would be to watch Q’s hips sway with the music. 

A few songs later (Bond can’t be sure if it was multiple songs, but he thinks there was…maybe) Q went to the bar where Bond was standing with a huge smile on his face. “Why aren’t you dancing?” Q asked as he leaned against the bar and tried to get the bartenders attention. 

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but that’s not dancing,” Bond countered.

“Why Mallory thought sending you was a good idea I will never understand,” Q said rolling his eyes. The bartender looked at him and Q quickly ordered a shot of tequila. 

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on your arse,” Bond said sipping his drink.

“Watch my arse often?” Q asked before throwing his head back with the shot.

“Constantly,” Bond said. His eyes caught on the younger man’s forearm. There was a light blue sugar skull that had definitely hadn’t been here when they had left the hotel room. Under the skull in block letters were the words ‘clever boy’ in all capital letters. 

Q didn’t seem to notice Bond’s staring, though, because he leaned close to Bond’s ear and said, “Stop staring and do something.” Q grabbed Bond’s arse before he slipped away and started across the room. Q turned around as he left and gave Bond a come-and-get-me grin. With a satisfied smirk Bond drained his glass and followed Q across the dance floor. He followed him through a swinging door into a bathroom with dim lighting and an offending smell (sex, piss, and vomit), but at least he wasn’t in danger of having a seizure anymore.

There were three other guys besides Q who was standing with his back to the counter he was leaning against. He grinned at Bond when he crossed the room in two long strides and turned Q to press up against the wall, pining him by one wrist above his head. Q’s grin widened and met Bond with an open mouthed kiss. Q licked inside of Bond’s mouth, his tongue running over inch, angling his head for a better angle. 

Distantly Bond was aware of the three other men leaving the room, but it was only a vague thought, especially compared to the feeling of Q’s lithe body pressed against his. Bond pulled back abruptly and attacked Q’s neck, biting harshly and making Q gasp. 

“You little shit,” Q almost a laughed. Bond slid his lips lower, kissing, licking, and biting at Q’s chest and neck where he could reach. He wanted to map Q out and find all the places that made Q’s breath hitch and cry out. 

Q used his free hand to run his fingers through Bond’s short-cropped hair and dig his fingers into Bond’s scalp, making Bond hiss. He gripped at what hair he could and pulled Bond’s head from his neck and back to his mouth. Bond bit down on Q’s lip before kissing him desperately. 

He could feel Q’s erection pressing against his thigh as they ground together. He released Q’s hand that he had and quickly as his hands would allow undid Q’s belt, button, and fly. He slid his hand down the front of Q’s jeans and grasped Q’s cock. The younger man let out an ungodly groan that shot straight to Bond’s cock. 

Bond leaned forward and licked the shell of Q’s ear. “No pants? Cheeky,” Bond whispered before nipping at the pulse point. 

“Mess with the … line of my jeans,” Q breathed back. He undid Bond’s jeans with deft fingers and pulled Bond’s leaking cock out of his pants. Bond’s thoughts immediately jumped to how talented those fingers were, all the things they could do. The hands that could bring the world to its knees focused on Bond. The idea made him impossibly harder. Q ran his thumb over the slit, smearing pre-come over the length with the next stroke.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb anything about that arse of yours,” Bond growled in Q’s ear as he pulled Q’s prick from free from his jeans and wrapped his hand around them both and started pumping at a punishing pace. Bond continued to mouth at Q’s neck as he moved his hips and hand in a matching rhythm.

It didn’t last long. It was rough and sloppy, but terribly satisfying. “Bond,” Q whined in his ear. “… close…”

“Yes,” Bond panted. Q came with a shudder and an aborted cry that ended with him biting into Bond’s shoulder. Bond followed almost immediately, the feeling of Q coming all over his hand and the smaller body shuddering under his having been too much. 

They caught their breath while leaning against each other for a moment before untangling themselves. Bond grabbed a handful of paper towels, wet them and tried to clean himself up before tucking himself back into his pants and redoing his trousers. Q did the same a few feet away without saying a word, but before he left the room he threw another grin at Bond and said, “Always a pleasure, Mr. Bond.”


	2. Chapter 2

The mission went smoothly, or as smoothly as a mission can. Bond ended up killing two bodyguards while Q hacked into the computer and the mark laid on the floor unconscious. Q called the team that they were meeting from the CIA. In a car park half-way across town they turned over the mark. Felix Leiter, a friend of Bond’s since he had become a Double-O, was there. Bond and him didn’t talk much outside of the usual script, though the American did cast a knowing look at Bond and Q’s disheveled states.

Bond brushed it off with a sly smile. Q had gone back to being Q-the-Quartermaster and glared at the both of them. After the hand off was complete and Q had to call into the office and tell them that he had the intel they had been searching for. They set up a flight for the next morning before signing off. 

By then they were almost back to the hotel. Q and Bond had rooms across the halls and when they came to the doors post-mission Q pressed Bond up against the wall. “My turn,” Q mumbled against Bond’s lips.

Bond pulled him tighter against his chest by his waist as he opened his mouth for Q’s tongue to slip in and lick every surface. The door behind Bond gave out as Q unlocked it with the hand that hadn’t slipped under Bond’s shirt to run over the tight mussels. They didn’t break apart as they stumbled into the room and maneuvered to the bed. Bond fell backward onto the bed, pulling Q down with him. Teeth gnashed together at the impact. Q laughed and Bond chucked and started kissing down Q’s neck. Q pushed back and crawled off the bed and crossed the room to the duffle bag that sat in the corner of the room. He started digging through a side pocket of the bag while Bond pushed himself off the bed and snuck up behind Q, placing his hands on Q’s hips. Q jumped slightly at the contact and dropped his head forward when Bond started nipping at the nape of his neck. Bond nipped on Q’s earlobe and licked the shell.

Q whirled around and pushed against his chest. “Back to bed,” Q ordered. Bond smirked and backed away from Q and crawled back on the bed.

“Yes, sir,” Bond said in a low voice that went straight to Q’s cock. He tossed the lube and condom that he had fished out of the bag on the corner of the bed. He crawled up the bed and straddled Bond’s lap. He pulled Bond’s shirt off over his head and started kissing up and down Bond’s toned chest. Q licked a thick stripe down the agent’s chest only stopping at the hem of the jeans. He undid the buttons and fly with deft fingers before yanking the jeans and pants down, freeing Bond’s erection. 

He met Bond’s eyes, pupils blown wide at the sight of Q settled between his legs. Q licked the underside of Bond’s prick, making Bond groan. Q gave him a wicked grin. Without breaking eye contact with Bon he wrapped his lips around the tip and ran his tongue over the lit before bobbing down. “Fuck,” Bond cursed, tangling his fingers in Q’s hair. His hips twitched, his eyes screwed shut, and threw his head back against the pillow. Heat pooled in his gut as Q switched between sucking and licking.

Bond could feel the orgasm continue to build until he was on the edge and had to pull Q off. Q’s lips were bright red and wet from spit and pre-come.

“You’re overdressed,” Bond growled. He flipped them over so that Q flopped on his back, his own eyes blown. Bond unbuttoned Q’s shirt leaving love bites in his wake. He took Q’s nipple in his mouth and bit gently on the pebbled nub, making Q gasp.

Bond undid Q’s jeans and pulled them off of the younger man leaving planes of pale skin against the dark sheets.

“I’m going to fucking devour you,” Bond growled, lunging at Q and attacking his lips. Q moaned in the back of his throat arching into Bond. He ground their hips together seeking and finding the friction.

In a surprising feat of strength Q flip them over and straddled Bond’s thighs running his hands over the tanned and scared skin. He stretched behind him with one hand while he distracted Bond by wrapping his hand over the slit of Bond’s prick, down the shaft, stopping for a moment to fondle Bond’s balls before continuing down and ghosting a finger over Bond’s hole. All the while Bond was writhing under Q and cursing his name.

Q popped open the bottle of lube and slicked up his fingers. He circled the ring of muscle before pressing the tip of his finger inside. “Fuck, Q. More.” Bond bore down and wiggled further onto Q’s finger. Q pushed further in, relishing in the feeling of Bond’s muscles twitching around his finger.

“Another?” Q asked coyly.

“God yes,” Bond moaned. Q added another finger with a grin at Bond’s responding groan. The agent dug his fingers into Q’s hips as Q slowly started fucking Bond with his fingers before adding another finger and purposefully grazing over Bond’s prostate causing the man to arch his back and give a wordless moan. “Damn itFuck me already,” Bond growled.

Q chuckled slightly. “So impatient,” Q tsked, pulling out his fingers, leaving Bond feeling empty. It didn’t last long though. In a matter of moments Q had the condom rolled on and was pressing against Bond’s hole. Slowly he pressed in. Bond was deliciously tight around him. He paused for a moment for Bond to adjust to the feeling of Q being inside of him.

It burned slightly, but not in an unpleasant way. It had been a long time (not too long, but a while) since Bond had been properly fucked. He arched his hips into Q with a wicked grin on his face telling the younger man to move. 

Q grinned back down at him before starting to rotate his hips and moving slowly in and out of him. He angled his hips to graze slightly past Bond’s prostate causing him to curse, only silenced by Q’s lips against his. 

Q wrapped a hand around Bond’s cock as Bond pressed his fingers into Q’s hips hard enough that there would probably be bruises in the morning. Q continued at a punishing pace, his hand in tune with his hips until both stuttered as he came, Bond’s name on his lips.

The sight of Q gasping out his name was too much for Bond and the agent came a moment later, grasping at Q’s back for purchase. When they both stilled and the only sound in the room was heavy breathing Q pulled out of Bond and removed the condom before getting out of the bed and going to the on suite bathroom. Bond didn’t move, only laid on the bed basking in the afterglow.

Q came out of the bathroom with a wet flannel and threw it at Bond. “Clean yourself up.”

Bond chuckled and did as he was told before throwing it back at Q and hitting the younger man in the face. “My mother warned me about boys like you,” Bond teased with a grin.

“Aren’t you lucky. The only people who warned me about you was only about half of MI6,” Q snapped back. He threw the towel haphazardly back into the bathroom and turned around to see Bond with an arm outstretched towards him.

“Should’ve listened to them. Most of them have first hand experience,” Bond said with a smirk on his lips. Q walked towards him and took the hand reaching for him as he crawled in next to Bond. 

“Oh I doubt that. Even Tanner warned me.” Bond wrapped an arm around Q’s shoulders then slid his hand down Q’s side to rest on the other man’s waist.

“I said most,” Bond mumbled, burying his nose in Q’s hair.

“Never would have pegged you for a cuddler,” Q said settling into Bond’s hold.

“Are you complaining?”

“Did it sound like a complaint?”

“Good. Now go to sleep.”


	3. Chapter 3

After the mission in the States Bond and Q settled comfortably into their relationship. Bond went on missions and Q welcomed him home. It had been going on for months when Bond came home from Dubai and they were laying in bed, Bond running his hand up and down Q’s arm while Q fiddled on his phone, his back pressed against Bond’s chest.

“Hey, Q,” Bond said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. 

“Hm?” 

“What’s you’re tattoo?”

Q’s whole body went tense for a second before he incrementally relaxed as if forcing himself to. “It’s a sugar skull like the one that Silva mocked me with.”

Bond wrapped his arms tightly around Q’s thin body who only pressed closer to him. 

“It’s to remind me that there’s always someone smarter who’s probably working against us,” he said and Bond tightens his hold yet again.

“That’s why there’s more than just you. You never leave me alone in the field and I don’t leave you alone here.” Bond kisses the soft spot behind Q’s ear. “Plus we all have our scars. You just happened to add yours with ink.” 

Q turned around in Bond’s arms and looked him directly in the eye. “I think I’m in love with you.” 

Bond stared back at Q long enough that Q almost began to regret saying it. He started to move out of Bond’s arms only to be pulled back by the agent who had a grin plastered to his face that threatened to split his face. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this fic it was a very different fic. Beautiful and complex with plot and then I was like "but what if I just wrote some porn instead" and this is what happened.


End file.
